


Impossibles

by oswhine



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oswhine/pseuds/oswhine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara Oswald and Rory Williams keep a lot of secrets from one another. Little do they know that their secrets stem from the same source...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this and couldn't stop (seriously, I've stayed up til three am writing this fic...). Please let me know if you have any comments/concerns! Enjoy!

“Come on, Rory, I can’t do this on my own,” Clara muttered as the phone rang and rang and rang in her ear. For the third time she reached his voicemail and for the third time she hung up before he could say his name, having to force herself to not throw her mobile across the room in frustration. She didn’t want to admit to him that she had somehow lost the internet, especially not on voicemail. She remembered something her mum had used to say about anger, about how a walk always helped to clear your head. So Clara grabbed her coat and left her phone behind.

There was a light breeze outside and it combed through her hair. Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the pale blue sky. Her mum always had had the best advice. She felt better already. She went down to the shop on the corner, deciding to get some more milk, kill two birds with one stone, that sort of thing.

“How’s your day going, love?” The woman behind the counter asked as Clara paid for the milk, looking at her with beady eyes.

“Pretty good, I’m having trouble with my computer, though. It’s like the internet’s just disappeared.”

“Oh,” the woman said, “I have just the thing for you.” She scribbled something on the back of Clara’s receipt. “This is the best computer helpline in the universe.” She made her eyes wide with the last word.

“Oh – thanks.” Clara studied the number as she walked out of the shop. She’d have to call it when she got home.

 

 

Another day, another time. Rory blinked. Twice. Three times. The man was still there. Still standing there, right in the middle of the road, where he shouldn’t be. He swallowed determinedly. He would get proof this time. Prove to Doctor Ramsden that he wasn’t crazy. He barely registered the light dimming around him, his mind already focused on the irregular. He did notice when the man in the raggedy, tattered clothes snatched his phone out of his hands.

“The sun’s going out, and you’re photographing a man and a dog - why?”

From that moment, from the time the man echoed Rory’s words, his life had changed. He had been dating Clara for almost a year at that point, but he hadn’t told her what had happened. After the Doctor had left for the first time, he had gone home and found Clara waiting, worried, words gushing out of her mouth as they always did when she was in a nervous state:

“Rory, I thought you were dead, it was like the end of the world – did you see the sun going out? – I knew you would have important things to do at the hospital, of course, you’re important, and you noticed all those coma patients – I can’t believe something like that would happen here! Can you – “

He had cut her off with a kiss. They had shared their experiences of that day, the strange day the world almost ended, with each other. Rory had told her everything except about the Doctor. He didn’t know why. Maybe he thought she wouldn’t believe him, even after that already insane day. Maybe he was just being selfish – he had always felt shadowed by her genius abilities (except for in the computer and cooking fields); it seemed like she had so much hidden knowledge about math and science that he didn’t understand, no matter how hard she tried to teach him. Maybe he felt it was time for a secret of his own. So when he heard that wheezing noise coming from the garden later that night he didn’t wake up Clara. He snuck out the back door without turning any lights on, like a teenager after curfew. He’d had to keep a lot of secrets from Clara after that day.

 

 

She still wasn't entirely sure what had happened. It had all been like some crazy, wonderful dream: an adventure worthy of her book. She would write it in there as soon as she got back. But she wished he hadn’t left so abruptly, that mysterious man whom adventure seemed to follow. She wondered if she’d ever see him again. She knew she should be happy with just one fantastical experience with him, but already she longed for him to come back. She could do what she had always longed to do; travel, see wonders. But here she was, grounded on the Earth, stuck in a humdrum domestic life with Rory. Not that she didn’t love Rory -  she loved him with all her heart, cared about him more than anyone in the entire universe – but she longed for more than the usual get a job, get married, have kids way of living. And she felt that secretly he did too, no matter how much he pretended not to. She had heard it in his voice when he’d recounted his side of that strange day two weeks again when they had thought the world was going to end. Maybe they could save up and travel together if the Doctor didn’t come back. The thought brightened her as she let herself into the flat.

“I’m home!” She called, walking into the kitchen. Rory was there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, his face like it had been carved from stone.

“Where the hell have you been?”

She’d forgotten. She had skipped through time and not even considered the consequences.

“Three missed phone calls, no messages, and then you never showed up last night! I was about to phone the police! Clara, what were you playing at?”

She faltered. “Rory, I – I’m sorry – “

“I would hope you are! Clara, I was worried sick! Where were you?”

Her mind raced. She couldn't tell him the truth – he would never believe her, she could never tell him about the Doctor. She was unconsciously thinking of him as _her_ Doctor, _her_ secret. “I – I – “

“Can you not even think of an excuse? For Pete’s sake,” he turned away from her.

“Well, what about you? Why didn't you pick up the phone? What were you doing?”

He bristled. “I’m not the one who disappeared for twelve hours without even leaving a note! Are you seeing someone else?”

“Are _you_ seeing someone else?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“How could you even say that?” He looked at her, his face aghast. She’d hurt him. She always took things too far. He brushed past her out of the kitchen before she could react.

“Rory, wait – I – “ she tried to follow him but the flat door was already slamming shut behind him. “Rory!” She buried her face in her hands. But still she didn’t regret meeting the Doctor.

 

 

They made up later because they both felt guilty about the secrets they were keeping from each other. But neither of them told each other what they were hiding. The next day the Doctor came and took Clara to Akhaten as she left the school. The next evening he took Rory to Venice to investigate the suspicious exclusive girls’ school there.

In their spare time their minds cooked up excuses, thought of places they could have been. They both waited for the other one to call them out, to demand an explanation. But they were both too busy waiting for the other one to do it so neither of them did. This cloud of deception had a silver lining: they were both in better moods; Rory would walk around the house whistling, Clara adding in a hummed harmony. They bought each other surprise presents, and Clara tried again to make a soufflé for Rory, but as always, it didn’t turn out right so that night they ate Neapolitan ice cream from the carton instead. Rory sneaked up on Clara and gave her surprise kisses. Clara made up sappy nicknames for him. They would look at each other’s faces and think how much they loved the other but underneath that familiar face was the Doctor’s shadow. They told each other “I love you” more, and held each other more tightly at night.

Their one year anniversary approached and both had flashing thoughts about telling the other about the Doctor; but no, they couldn't, not yet.

 

 

Clara woke up early on the day of their anniversary, a plan already set in her mind. She would make Rory a soufflé – dessert for breakfast, what better way to celebrate a special day? And she would get it right this time because she really meant it. Gray light seeped through the blinds in the kitchen as she whipped the mixture together, pouring her heart into it along with the milk and the eggs.

“I will be soufflé girl,” she muttered under her breath, promising herself. It looked promising as she slipped it into the oven, but then it always did.

It came out sunken and hopeless-looking. How did that bode for the rest of their relationship? She couldn't let Rory see it. Desperate, she called the Doctor.

“Help!” She moaned. “I’m trying to make a soufflé for my boyfriend, but it just won’t work!”

“Well, what d’ya want me to do about it?” There was a banging noise in the background. “I’m a little busy right now, Clara!”

“Oh, please, can’t you use your sonic screwdriver on it or something?”

“It’s not a baking utensil, it is a delicate tool for – _woah_! Clara, I’m going to have to call you back!” The phone went dead.

She hugged the phone to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut, praying that when she opened them there would be a beautiful, perfect soufflé sitting on the counter. But there wasn’t. Worse, there was a burning smell hanging in the air. Clara was close to tears.

“Clara? What’s that smell?” Rory opened the kitchen door in his pajamas and Clara burst into tears.

He looked at her and the deflated soufflé sitting on the counter. “Oh, Clara.” He chuckled and took her in his arms and stroked her hair.

“Don’t laugh at me! I – I wanted it to be perfect!” She sniffed.

“You’re perfect, and that’s all that matters. Why don’t we make something together for breakfast?”

Half an hour later and Clara’s sniffles were all but forgotten and the smell of crepes masked the lingering burning smell. They sat at the table together, their plates of crepes in front of them. Clara snapped a picture with her mobile.

“This is going on Instagram!”

Rory frowned, setting down his knife and fork. “Instagram? You have an Instagram?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Clara, the last time I checked you thought Twitter was a book.”

“Oh, one of the girls at the school showed it to me,” Clara said quickly.

“Hmm. That’s nice.” He seemed to accept her answer and turned his focus to the food on his plate. Clara sighed quietly.

“Do you want to go to the art museum today?” She asked, letting herself relax. “It’s too bad the Van Gogh exhibit is over, though.”

“Oh, I saw it. It was really good. Vincent is a fascinating person.”

“Rory! I wanted to go with you but you said you were too busy!”

“Oh – sorry,” he said sheepishly, mind buzzing, “I went on a walk one lunch break and just - ended up there! Didn't I tell you?”

“No!”

They both felt a little flustered and just made small talk for the rest of the meal, afraid of letting more signs of their betrayals slip out.

They were washing up when there was a knock at the door.

“Oh! I’ll get that,” Rory said, grinning.

“You expecting someone? On our anniversary?” Clara asked, looking over her shoulder and grinning back.

His smile widened, as always, upon seeing her cute little dimples.

“I might be,” He walked backwards out of the kitchen, thinking how much he loved her and thinking of her face when she saw the white chrysanthemums he’d ordered for her. There was knocking again, more insistent this time. “Coming!” He called.

He was not expecting to open the door and come face to face with the Doctor.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment of truth is finally on our unlikely heroes...will the Doctor cause chaos in Rory and Clara's life or bring them together? (sorry, I really just wanted an excuse to write a cheesy summary) I hope you enjoy this second installment as much as I enjoyed writing it!

“Doctor? What are you doing here?” He hissed.

“Rory! Are these your flowers?” He shoved a bouquet of white chrysanthemums into Rory’s astonished hands. In his other hand he was carrying…a soufflé?

“Hold on – is that for Clara? Doctor, you can’t – “

But it was too late. The Doctor was already swinging into the kitchen. Rory’s heart was pounding so much it felt like there was an earthquake in his chest. This was not how he’d wanted Clara to find out about his secret life, this was definitely not the day…

He followed the Doctor into the kitchen just as Clara turned around.

“Clara,” he began, “I should – “

But before he could continue she hissed “Doctor!” through her teeth, her eyes round.

“Wait,” Rory said, shaking his head slightly, “You – know the Doctor?”

“ _You_ know the Doctor?” She countered.

They stared at each other. Both had been too panicked to see the look of recognition in each other’s eyes when they looked at the man with the bow tie standing in the middle of their kitchen.

“Ta-da!” The Doctor said, holding up his hands and almost losing his grip on the soufflé, looking delighted. “Miss Oswald, here’s your souffle,” he said, passing the dish to Clara. She just stood there, gaping, looking from Rory to the Doctor and back again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Clara said, getting annoyed. “You didn’t think to share this with me, even after knowing me for a year? Even after knowing that my biggest desire was to travel! I even let you read my book! And you didn’t – you secretive – “ She set down the soufflé dish on the counter with a loud bang and started hitting him with each word.

“Ow!” Rory shrank away from her hands, trying to guard himself. She was always so much fiercer than she appeared. “I – what about you? You never told me!”

The whole time the Doctor was darting across the kitchen, looking at a loss for what to do. “Uh, Rory – Clara – this was supposed to be a nice surprise!”

“Yes, ‘cause I knew you’d never believe me!” Clara continued, still hitting Rory, although her punches were getting more sloppy and erratic.

“Well, I knew you’d never believe _me_! Hold on, does that mean – that time, when you disappeared – you were with _him_?”

She stopped hitting him and froze, staring at him in sudden realisation. “The Vincent Van Gogh exhibit – you didn’t go on your lunch break, did you?”

“And Instagram – you didn’t learn about that from somebody at the school!”

They stared at each other. Then Clara broke the silence:

“Oh my god, did you meet Vincent Van Gogh, you lucky bastard?”

“Yeah – he was brilliant, Clara – and I met Winston Churchill!”

“That’s so unfair! I haven’t met anyone famous! I did go on a Russian submarine during the Cold War, there was this Ice Warrior – “

“A few weeks ago we went to Venice and there were vampires! Fish vampires!”

“Have you ever been to Akhatan? Oh, that was amazing, you have to get him to take you there!”

They fell into each other’s arms, laughing, and so relieved because it could have ended so much worse.

Behind them, the Doctor rolled his eyes. “Humans,” he muttered. “Ok! Hugging time over,” he said, pulling them apart, “How would you two like a special anniversary trip, hmm?”

Clara grinned, bouncing on her tip toes. “Together? Doctor! That would be wonderful!”

Rory couldn’t take his eyes off Clara’s overjoyed face. “I can’t imagine anything I’d like more.”

“Ok, super romantic destination coming up!” The Doctor clapped his hands in excitement and waited for Clara and Rory to rush toward the door. But they weren’t looking at him. They had come together into a kiss, Rory’s hands around Clara’s waist, locked away in their own private world. The Doctor made a face. “The TARDIS’ outside, I’ll wait for you out there!” He made towards the door but Clara broke away from Rory, a grin lighting up her face.

“No, we’re coming!” She grabbed Rory’s hand and they ran after the Doctor toward adventure, together this time.

 

 

 

Their little trip wasn’t as romantic as they would have hoped. The Doctor had taken them to a Love Hotel in a futuristic Tokyo, not knowing what a Love Hotel really was, and they had found out it was being run by aliens planning to repopulate the Earth with their descendants. Luckily the Doctor was better at saving the world than arranging dates.

Rory shouldn’t have been surprised, really, at how efficient and brave Clara was, but he was. He couldn’t help admiring his girlfriend as she fought off a purple-skinned alien with a chair. It was strange seeing her interacting with the Doctor, realising the two people he knew best that he thought might never meet knew each other equally as well as he knew them.

And Clara was discovering a new side to Rory. Normally he was just her loveable, awkward, goofy boyfriend who worried too much about her, but now he was almost as reckless as the Doctor and seemed ready for everything that was thrown at him. To be frank, it turned her on. She squeezed his bicep as they ran down the pink-lighted corridor of the hotel, and, even knowing her life was in danger, she found herself smiling. At the same time it was so strange – she had had two lives, one with Rory, one with the Doctor, which she had kept strictly separate, but now they had collided with surprising force. A small voice in her head told her that a collision of that size would cause cracks, but hanging around with the Doctor you learned not to listen to those small voices in your head. There wasn’t time, anyway. It was surprising how when you travelled through time how much less of it there seemed to be.

At the same time a tiny voice in Rory’s head was wondering how much of a coincidence it was that the Doctor had been travelling with them both at the same time.

“When did you start travelling with the Doctor, then?” He asked Clara when they went for sushi after saving the world.

“Oh, about…” she tapped her lower lip, “Almost three weeks, I think.”

“Hm.” The Doctor wasn’t playing matchmaker, then: they’d been dating for much longer than that. He felt a little burst of superiority knowing that the Doctor had picked him up first, but pretended to himself that he hadn’t noticed it.

“What about you?” Clara asked him, fumbling with her chopsticks.

“Me?” Oh…” Rory tried to sound nonchalant. “Around five weeks, I’d say.”

“Five weeks?” Clara’s round eyes grew even rounder. “You’re better at keeping secrets than I’d have given you credit for.”

Suddenly there was a hint of tension in the air but it was broken as the Doctor rushed over, putting down their plates of sushi with a flourish. His good-hearted rambling dispersed all that remained of the strained atmosphere: “Best sushi in the galaxy! At least in this time period – did you know…”

Clara and Rory exchanged a private grin. This was the Doctor, the man – alien - they both knew. They could share him, just like they shared the sushi on the plates in front of them, and both of them could be happy. At least, they both hoped so. But as they had hid their relationships with the Doctor from each other before, they hid their doubts now. Rory laid awake at night and speculated the reasons why both he and Clara had been travelling, separately, with the Doctor – and what was he hiding from them? And on the way to and from work Clara stared out tube windows at the concrete walls flashing by and tried not to think of her life falling apart. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things spice up in Clara and Rory's life and mysteries are answered and added to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clap your hands if you wish Clory was a bigger ship - *noise echoes in empty room*

It became a regular thing now for the Doctor to pick them up for an adventure at least three times every week – and sometimes they would spend over a week in the TARDIS with him – and Rory decided to interrogate him one day. He was tired of the Doctor not telling them things, tired of that little knowing gleam that appeared in his eyes when he looked at both of them during quiet moments that he thought they didn’t notice.

The Doctor was already darting around the console from the moment they stepped in the TARDIS, calling out:

“I thought we’d go to the Mars today, very interesting Egyptian ancestors there – “

“Doctor,” Rory said, cutting him off.

The Doctor paused in his whirling and articulating and frowned at him.

“Before we go anywhere I’d like to – I _need_ – to know one thing. Why us? Why me and Clara? Why were you travelling with both of us, apart?”

The Doctor sighed. “I can’t tell you that, Rory.”

“What do you mean you can’t tell us? It’s about us! Why shouldn’t we know?”

“Not yet. Not ready yet.”

Rory didn’t know if he meant they weren’t ready yet or he wasn’t, or maybe some other alternative factor.

“But there is something? This isn’t just a coincidence?” Rory said, pouncing on the Doctor’s words.

But the Doctor didn’t reply. When he did speak again, it was to continue his spiel about Mars. He acted like the moment had never happened.

Rory glanced at Clara. She looked both confused and concerned. He imagined the look on his face was much the same.

But now they could talk about their life with the Doctor at home, even if they had no idea what it was the Doctor was keeping from them. They spent many hours speculating about what it could be, and only once was Clara able to voice the little words that floated constantly in the back of her head:

“Do you think it’s bad?”

Rory glanced up at her. He sighed. He wished he could tell her that no, he was sure it wasn’t. But they were supposed to be telling each other the truth now. “I don’t know, Clara.” He could see her bottom lip sticking out in worry and came over and put his arms around her. She was so vulnerable inside. “I’m sure it’ll be ok in the end. The Doctor always fixes everything, doesn’t he?”

Clara nodded. “Yeah, he does.” But still she was worried there might be a crack one day that he couldn’t fix.

Rory was comforted by the thought that day after day they were getting closer to finding out the truth. But at the same time he didn’t want to find out, just wanted to exist in this blissful oblivious world with Clara and the Doctor forever.

One day Clara was working on her computer when she let out a sudden gasp. “Rory! Come look at this!”

“What is it?” He crossed the room and peered over her shoulder. On the computer screen was an old black and white photo of a woman wearing a high necked dress.

“I’m getting my English students to do a project on the Victorian era, and I was looking for some sites they could use for research and I found this – look!”

She zoomed in on the picture, and then Rory saw it in more detail. The woman in the old photograph could have been Clara’s twin. If they had been any other couple, he would have found this very odd. But instead he just remarked:

“I guess you won’t be asking them to use that site, then. I didn’t know you’d been to the Victorian period with the Doctor.”

“I haven’t!”

“Oh.” He squinted, studying the picture in more detail. But it could be no one else. “Maybe it’s from the future, then? Somewhere we haven’t been yet?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Clara nibbled her lip. “But where are you, though? Where’s the Doctor?”

Rory kissed the top of her head, breathing in the sweet butterscotch smell of her shampoo. “You worry too much. Especially lately. You need to relax.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. She was quite tense. “You know what always helps you relax?” He took her by the hand and they sank onto the couch. They made love, and afterward Clara fell into a deep sleep. She hadn’t been getting a lot of it lately. Rory stroked her hair and watched her breathe, so beautiful and peaceful.

Suddenly that familiar wheezing noise filled the room and the blue police box began to appear on the living room carpet. The noise woke Clara up and she sat up just as the Doctor spilled out of the TARDIS.

“Doctor!” She squealed, pulling the blanket up over her chest.

“Good afternoon – woah!” He spun around, covering up his eyes. “You two! Get some clothes on!”

“Well, it’s not our fault if you land that thing in the middle of our living room with no warning,” Rory grumbled as he pulled on his pants.

“Are you wearing clothes yet?” The Doctor asked, hand still over his face.

“Yes, it’s ok to look,” Rory sighed.

“Ok! Things to do, places to see!”

They all scrambled into the TARDIS but when they got in there the Doctor didn’t go straight to his excited spinning as usual. Instead he walked slowly up to the console and leaned against it, facing away from them.

“I promised you I would tell you the truth,” he began, almost sadly, “Well, today’s the day.”

Clara and Rory held their breath. The moment was finally on them, they were in the now and the air was vibrating with anticipation.

“And you need to tell _me_ the truth. I followed you. I kept finding you again, and again, just you two, nobody else, repeating through time like a pattern. You never met. Until now. I didn’t even know you two knew each other until a few weeks ago – about a week before your anniversary. This is where your timelines finally intersect.”

“What – Doctor, I don’t understand,” Clara faltered, “How can we be ‘repeating through time’? I’ve only been alive since 1986.”

“ _You_ have, yes.” The Doctor still hadn’t turned around. His face was hidden.

“Doctor, you’re not making any sense,” Rory said.

“You two, repeating, born again and again! And I don’t understand!” The Doctor was suddenly yelling.

Clara flinched, frightened, and Rory backed away. He put his arm around her and hugged her close, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze even though he didn’t feel assured at all. “What do you mean?”

He brought up the TARDIS screen, and it began flashing pictures of Clara and Rory – but they weren’t Clara and Rory. These were pictures of themselves that they had never seen before, in places they had never been to, in outfits they’d never worn, including the image of the Victorian woman they’d looked at earlier that morning on Clara’s computer.

“All these people, all you! I don’t understand how, I don’t understand why! Tell me, what are you two, a trick, a trap? Huh?” He finally turned around, and there was a manic gleam in his eyes. All of a sudden he didn’t look like the Doctor they knew and loved. It was like he was a different person.

“Doctor, we have no idea what you’re talking about!” Clara yelled back at him. “We’re just as confused as you are!”

“You two are impossible! Nothing about you makes sense! Just tell me!” He was breathing heavily.

“That’s why you chose us,” Rory said dully, “Not because we were special or important, not because you needed us, but because we were just two more pieces of your puzzle. Well, I’m sorry we can’t help you see the bigger picture.”

“That doesn’t matter now. I met a governess who was really a barmaid in Victorian London, Clara, and she was you!”

“No, she wasn’t! Doctor!”

“And there was a girl in the Dalek asylum who died saving my life, and she was you!”

“She really wasn’t!”

“Rory, at Stonehenge there was a Roman soldier, and he was you!”

“I’m not him!”

“There was a boy who was married to a girl with fairytale name, and he was you!”

Rory faltered. “Not Clara? I was married to someone who wasn’t Clara?” He looked down at her and she looked up at him, their eyes filled with fear. He pulled her closer. “That’s impossible.” She shook her head in agreement.

The Doctor stepped back, panting. “No, sorry. You really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? You’re just Clara and Rory!” A smile suddenly lit up his face and he lurched forwards and took their faces in his hands, one by one, kissed them on their foreheads. All they could do was stand there, astonished. The Doctor’s moods changed so fast it was hard to keep up.

“Time for adventure! With good plain old Clara and Rory!” The Doctor skipped back up to the console and flung a switch dramatically.

Clara and Rory exchanged a glance but let themselves be rocked by the TARDIS as it hurtled through the time vortex towards its destination. Both of them were rattled by the experience, however. The Doctor’s scary side had never been directed at them before. And they didn’t like what he had said, either. This revelation had just made them more confused, not less. Not to mention a little frightened. They were soon lost in adventure but their discussion with the Doctor was constantly running through the backs of their minds the whole time. When they got back to the flat after their trip with the Doctor on the pirate ship the _Fancy_ Clara tried to find out more about the mysterious Victorian woman who shared her face, but to no avail. It seemed that all that remained of her was that one photograph. Rory found that in his spare time he was browsing internet archives, his eyes scanning for his and Clara’s faces. But he never found them. Maybe he was looking too hard, maybe he needed to relax his eyes like when you looked at those visual illusions that appeared to be just scrambled colours at first but then blurred into a picture of a dolphin, or a cat playing with a ball of yarn.

One night during dinner Rory suddenly said: “You don’t think he’s making it up, do you? The Doctor? You know, all the stuff about you and me repeating.”

Clara looked up, frowning. “Why would he do that?”

Rory thought for a moment. “I don’t know, that was just one of those moments when I realise I can never trust him, not completely.”

“I trust the Doctor.” Clara said, putting down her knife and fork. Rory shadowed her movements.

“You do?” He said, looking at her.

“I have faith in him, yes.”

“But what about all those people before us? All the other people he travelled with? What happened to them? You can’t believe that whatever happened to them won’t happen to us. It probably already has, in another time! That’s why there are all these strange echoes of us!”

“Well, then. We just have to keep going, then, Rory, don’t we? If it’s already happened in our future?” They stared at each other from opposite ends of the table. There was a fierce glint in Clara’s eyes. “And what if you’re right, it isn’t real – but what if he doesn’t know that? We both know the Doctor’s a madman, right? And he sometimes gets so caught up in his ideas and he takes them too far? Or – what if,” she said, her eyes widening, “What if someone tricked him?”

“Can anyone trick the Doctor, though?”

“There must be someone. Everyone has a weakness, even timelords.”

Rory picked up his fork again. “I don’t know, Clara. We’re starting to sound just as crazy as he is. All this speculating. Maybe we should just leave it for tonight. Just leave it be.”

“You’re the one who brought it up in the first place!” Clara said, defensive.

“You’re right, I did. I’m telling that to myself as well as you. But you just seem to get more caught up in it.”

“Why is it always on me, Rory? It’s never you. It’s not like you’re not involved in it too! It’s not like you don’t think about it all the time as well!” She was suddenly standing, her chair pushed back from the table, face flushed.

“Clara, I didn’t mean – “

“Well then maybe you should think the next time you open your big fat mouth!” She strode away into the hall. Rory got up and ran after her.

“Clara! Where are you going?”

She was grabbing her jacket off the hook and opening the door. She glanced back at him one final time before she swung out the door and closed it forcefully behind her, leaving Rory standing alone in the empty hall.

He sighed. They’d both been so on edge lately, both so worried and scared about everything. He knew this was partly his fault but in his mind he entirely blamed the Doctor. He had made them like this. If only they could go back to those blissful weeks when they had just enjoyed the pleasures of travelling through time and space together. When everything had seemed ok on the surface. Now the cracks that Clara had worried about were finally forming.

She came back at midnight, her skin cold and her hair smelling like the night sky. He wrapped her tightly in his arms and whispered a million apologies in her ear that she repeated back to him into his chest.

“Don’t do that again,” he said into the top of her head, “I’m worried about losing you enough as it is.”

“I thought we weren’t talking about that again tonight.” She said softly, her warm breath rippling the soft fabric of his shirt. Her Rory.

“We’re not.”

They slept as close together as possible that night, holding each other tight, worried that if they let go they would lose each other forever.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Netflix summary style: Rory has some misgivings and he and Clara learn who they truly are, while the Doctor makes a difficult decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! I know not many people read this, but I apologize I took so long to update. I was going to insert a full trip with the Doctor but I was having trouble writing this. Anyway, here it is, and thanks to those who read and gave kudos! <3 (also you may have noticed, not particularly in this part, that I borrow some dialogue from the show. I am not claiming it as my own, or, of course, the characters)

They had become accustomed to listening out for that familiar noise of the TARDIS materializing, and the next time they heard it Clara peered out the window to see it appearing next to the fence outside. 

“Right!” She said brightly. “Rory, the Doctor’s here!” She rushed into the hall to grab her jacket, checking to make sure she had her keys. Despite her misgivings she couldn’t help enjoying their outings with the Doctor. She lived for them, really. She would spend the days with her ears pricked, glancing out the window every so often, looking up and down every street she walked on. Without them she would have been living the type of life she loathed. She couldn’t wait to see where the Doctor would take them next, and delighted in every new thing they discovered. As long as she kept those nagging doubts out of the forefront of her mind it was ok. 

“Rory!” She called again. There was no reply. “Rory?” She walked back into the living room. He was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. 

“I don’t think we should go,” he said quietly. 

“What? What do you mean? Is your stomach still upset from the last trip?” She couldn’t help giggling a little. 

“What if this is the time we don’t come back?” 

“Don’t be silly, of course we’re coming back. Remember? We come back again and again.” 

“He said this is when our timelines finally overlap. Maybe this is the last life we’ll have.” 

“We haven’t had any lives before. Stop being such a spoil sport, let’s go!” 

He glanced up at her. “Alright, alright.” He followed her out but glanced around once before they left, absorbing everything, remembering the memories they had shared in this flat and packing them away, tightly sealed. Just in case it was the last time. 

 

The day they learned the truth about themselves was a day just like any other. The Doctor hadn’t been round to see them for a few days, and Rory and Clara were settling back into their daily life routines even though they knew they would be tugged back out of them soon enough and have to adjust all over again. 

Clara was curled up on the couch marking book reports when Rory entered the flat with his usual call of “I’m home!” Home. Could it really be called a home, a place they never settled into? Somewhere to stay between trips. It was more like a hotel than a home. 

“Oh, Rory, before you take your shoes off can you go pick up the mail?” 

He came and leaned in the doorway, sighing in an exaggerated way and rolling his eyes.

“Puh-lease?” 

“Fineee,” he said, but before he could turn to leave Clara had leapt up off the couch and gave him a soft peck on the check. He smiled to himself as he left the flat. 

He was back soon with the usual bills and flyers in his hand as well as an envelope of thick parchment. He discarded the rest of it on the hall table and went to sit next to Clara on the couch, still studying the envelope. It was strange. He hadn’t received an actual letter in years. Neither of them had. 

“What’s that?” Clara asked, looking up. 

“It’s a letter, addressed to both of us.” Rory turned the envelope over in his hands. It was secured with a fancy black wax seal that could have belonged in the medieval ages. The words ‘Open When Alone’ were written in a flamboyant cursive along the flap. Clara cuddled up to him and looked too. 

“Well,” he said, “We’re alone now.” 

“Now or never,” Clara agreed, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “Read it to me.” 

Rory stroked the smooth parchment before carefully slitting it open. “My dear Rory and Clara, the Doctor entrusted me with your contact details – honestly, who writes like this?”

“Shut up! Keep reading, I want to know what it says!” Clara said, elbowing him.

“Ok, ok! The Doctor entrusted me blah blah blah…in case of an emergency, and I fear one has now arisen…” 

And so the letter had led them to Trenzalore. They had saved the Doctor’s life by stepping into his timestream together, hands clasped tightly, realising that if there was one way they wanted to die it was together, helping the man they both loved who had helped so many others. But it didn’t end that way. Shadows of Clara and Rory were spread throughout time, always running towards the Doctor, trying to reach him and protect him like he had protected them. They lived a thousand lives and died a thousand deaths, always with one same purpose, even if they never knew it. Until this life, the one where their timelines finally intertwined, and where they finally learned how abnormal they truly were. 

Life was different after that. That was the worst thing that would ever happen to them in their lives, and it was over now, out of the way. They were safe, and so more relaxed as they flowed from normal life to the TARDIS and back again. The Doctor watched them, seeing the change, picking up on their feelings. And he sighed to himself, because he knew too well that you were never safe, especially traveling with him. And thinking the opposite just made it worse, just made you more vulnerable. So he avoided dropping by as often, as much as he missed Clara and Rory. 

Then one day he dropped by after a week and a half away from them. 

“Doctor!” Rory said he stepped out of the TARDIS into their living room. “Where’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know me, Rory. I keep busy.”

Rory didn’t notice the hint of sadness in his smile. “Well, we’re glad you’re back. Clara’s been pining for a getaway.” 

“Oh yes, I’ve got a special trip planned for us today.” 

“I dread to think,” Rory said, laughing. He still hadn’t noticed that there was a sharp contrast between his and the Doctor’s moods. 

“Is that the Doctor?” Clara said, flying out of the bathroom to hug her favourite timelord. “Where the hell have you been?” 

“I keep busy.”

Now Rory noticed something off. The Doctor had used the exact same words. He usually never ran out of words. But where Clara would have immediately asked if something was wrong, Rory didn’t say anything. He respected other people’s privacy, even when it wasn’t always the right thing to do. He didn’t mention anything to Clara either as they all scrambled into the TARDIS.

“So, where to, Doctor?” Clara asked. 

“It’s a surprise, Clara,” he said, smiling, “An extra-special surprise tour,” he attempted to use his usual bright tone but if they had bothered to listen closely they would have noticed it sounded a bit strained. But they didn’t, both too happy to be back in the time machine again. It was boring living an ordinary life when you simultaneously travelled with the Doctor.

The TARDIS materialized in front of the pyramids in Egypt.

“Ooh,” Clara said, stepping out into the hot sun and taking off her jacket, “Is there some Ancient Egyptian – sorry, Osirian - curse that’s turning people into scarab beetles that we have to break?” 

The Doctor smiled. “Nope, no curse.”

“Then why are we here?” Rory asked.

“I just thought you might like to see the pyramids, after learning about their influences and all. You know, a long time ago I did break an Ancient Egyptian curse…” 

And so they wandered around the pyramids among the baseball-capped tourists, and Rory suddenly realised they were just like them. For once they weren’t special or there to save anyone, they were just tourists. 

From the pyramids they went to the Taj Mahal, and from there to Petra, the ancient city carved from stone walls. In each place they just let themselves be pushed along by the crowd, looking at everything around them.

Clara began to get bored. “Is this all we’re going to do, Doctor? Just walk around? Can’t we go somewhere more interesting?” 

“This is interesting!” He said indignantly, as though she had personally insulted him. 

Then Rory saw it. “You’re going to leave us, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. It was suddenly as clear to him as the colour of the Doctor’s eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rory and Clara get some bad news, the Doctor makes a promise, and everything goes to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Netflix-style summary. I actually finished writing the end of this last night, so hopefully I'll be updating it a lot until it's all up here. I feel that this section and the next are a little weak, so I apologize.

_Then Rory saw it. “You’re going to leave us, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. It was suddenly as clear to him as the colour of the Doctor’s eyes._

 “What?” Clara said, spinning round to look at the Doctor. “You’re not, are you?”

He looked away.

“Doctor?” She said in a small voice.

“What, so just because you solved our mystery you’re done with us now?” Said Rory, angry.

“No, Rory, that’s not it. I wanted to show you that there are great things here, too, on Earth, in the twenty first century. So much to see.” He paused and then added, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You _are_ leaving us.” Clara had tears sparkling in her eyes, like faraway stars.

“Not leaving, just…taking a break. You haven’t seen the last of me. Bad penny is my middle name – seriously, you should see the looks I get when I fill out a form.”

Both Clara and Rory couldn’t help smiling.

“But Doctor, you know Rory and I don’t care. We already died once – we’ve died a hundred times! We don’t mind dying, as long as it keeps us from living a life we hate.”

“Oh, Clara. But how will I feel when you die? I never get used to the losses, not even after over a thousand years of all of time and space, and I never will. And what if it’s just you and me, standing over Rory’s body? What if it’s me and him standing over yours? You two are meant to be together, even if that means never seeing me again. Clara and Rory, that’s just how it should be. And haven’t I shown you today that are wonders right where you are?” He spread his arms wide and they all looked up at the towering walls of Petra around them.

Clara shook her head, tears leaking out of her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. It’s meant to be Clara and Rory _and_ the Doctor, she thought.

He took her face in his hand, feeling the warm wet tears on her cheeks. “We all have to let go sometime. This distance will be good for you. Let go before the rope snaps and we all fall down. You’ve become too attached. You have to let go.”

“But I don’t want to!”

“You have to.” The Doctor stepped back, letting his hand slip away from her face. Clara made a small movement as if to snatch his wrist, but then let her hand fall back to her side. She wrapped her arms around herself and a small sob escaped her. “Rory,” the Doctor said, nodding at Clara before turning away. The sun was at a point in the sky so that they were all in shadow and there was even a slight chill wrapped around them.

Rory held his Clara close in his arms and let her cry, her tears dampening his shirt.

“At least we’ll be together,” he murmured.

“Can’t we just have one last trip together?” Clara squeaked. “Just one last trip, one last round of wonders. Please, Doctor.”

He put his face in his hands. “Ahh, fine! Just no more crying, some animals can smell tears, you know! I don’t want you endangering our lives!”

“Oh, thank you!” She cried, jumping away from Rory and hugging the Doctor instead.

“Ok, one last trip! A farewell tour! Clara Oswald, Rory Williams, where should we go to end it with a bang?”

“Can we meet someone famous? I never got to meet someone famous, and Rory met Vincent Van Gogh _and_ Winston Churchill!” They were walking back to the TARDIS at a fast pace now.

“Ok, Clara, who will it be? Anyone, anywhere, anytime, anyplace!”

Clara’s mind had suddenly gone blank. There were hundreds of people she’d like to meet, a list that she’d thought of many times and especially so after she’d met the Doctor, but as soon as he asked she couldn’t remember a single name. She thought of the people she knew and who they would most like to meet to try to remember. She thought of her Nan. “What about Elvis Presley? I’m sure he’d be fascinating. My Nan loves him.”

“Elvis Presley? Ok! Elvis the Pelvis, the King of Rock n Roll, Big E! I tried to meet him with someone else another time, but we ended up in the wrong place.”

“Isn’t that always what happens?” Rory asked.

“Oh, come on, Rory! It doesn’t happen that often!”

Five minutes later they were standing on a cliff edge, facing distant mountains silhouetted against a red sky, not at Sun Studios in 1950s Memphis. Rory looked pointedly at the Doctor.

“You were saying?”

“I – yes, well, I don’t know how that happened…” he frowned and darted back inside the TARDIS.

“I can’t believe this is going to be our last trip with the Doctor,” Clara said, staring off into the distance at red-tinged mountains.

"That’s not for sure. He said it was just a break, not forever.”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip.

The Doctor came striding out of the TARDIS. “Come on!” He called, and started walking away.

“Doctor! Where are you going? I thought we were going to meet Elvis Presley?” Rory called as they ran to catch up. “Isn’t it Clara’s choice?”

“I’ve never been to this planet before, we meet as well explore! Keep up!”

They found a spot where the cliff began to slope down and descended into a forest of black pine trees emitting a fragrant scent unlike any Rory had ever smelled before. It reminded him of Christmas trees back on Earth, but at the same time it didn’t. There was a sort of spiciness to it, and a kind of damp wetness. It was a complicated, many layered smell. Something decidedly alien.

It was dark in the forest, what with the thick, dark branches of the trees. The Doctor was scanning around with his sonic screwdriver, the tip glowing neon green in the blackness wrapped around them, muttering to himself: “A sort of perpetual sunset…and what are these trees producing?” Every so often he’d check the screwdriver and frown at it.

Then Rory spotted something in the distance. Something that wasn’t him or Clara or the trees or the light on the Doctor’s screwdriver, or the darkness enveloping them. It was a faint gray patch.

“Doctor…look at that.”

The Doctor squinted and then ran ahead, dodging through the tree trunks, leaving Clara and Rory to run after him. As they got closer to the faint gray patch, they realised it wasn’t gray at all, it was white, just appearing gray as it was in shadow. It was an ornate building, looking utterly out of the place in the middle of the forest. It could have a museum or a gallery in the middle of London. The Doctor stood still ahead of them, gazing up at it. They came to stand beside him.

“What is it, Doctor?” Clara asked.

“No idea. Let’s find out!”

And again there were following him, as they always did, as they always would. They would follow him to the edge of the Earth and past that. They would follow him into the stars until there was only blackness around them. They would follow him through time until there was nothing or until they were surrounded by the ruins of everything.

Inside the building it looked as though it was a museum as well. The room was clean, shining and white, golden lights set into the walls and a gathering of white couches pushed up against the wall. At the front of the room there was a reception desk with a plain faced woman standing behind it, smiling as though she had been waiting just for them.

“Welcome to Malcrove House,” she said in a smooth voice.

The Doctor subtly scanned her with his sonic screwdriver. “An android!” He said in an excited whisper. “A pretty high tech one too, all the latest technology – “

“Are you here for a tour?”

“Yes, yes, we are, we are here to tour the tour because we are tourists,” the Doctor said.

“Right this way please,” she led them towards a door set into the corner of the room. “When you’ve finished, please fill out a visitor’s card on your way out. If you have any questions, buzz me on the intercom – just press down one of the illuminated buttons on the walls and speak into the microphone. Have a pleasant visit.”

None of them had any idea of what to expect as they walked through the door. But Rory had not expected to walk into a hallway lined with mirrors like there would be at a carnival or circus. The floors and the ceiling were made of a deep black stone that made Rory feel as if he were falling.

“What is this place?” He whispered. Neither Clara nor the Doctor had an answer for him.

Their footsteps echoed as they walked slowly down the corridor, glancing in the mirrors on either side of them as they went. None of them seemed to do anything special, they didn’t appear stretched or shrunk or distorted, except –

“Hey, I look really good,” Clara said, combing her hair in the mirror. Her face was less wide than it usually looked; her hair was smooth, without any split ends or flyaways; her skin was perfectly clear.

Rory looked at her – not at her mirror image, at her real flesh and blood self. “You look like you normally do to me,” he said. Catching Clara’s glare, he added: “Beautiful, that is.”

The Doctor came over to stand by Clara, scanning the mirror with his sonic screwdriver. He looked from the mirror to Clara’s face and back again.

“Hmm. Interesting. It shows us what we wish we realistically look like.”

“Realistically? What does that mean?”

“It means, Rory, that you couldn’t look into the mirror and see Rock Hudson, even if your heart’s desire is to look like him, because you wouldn’t realistically think that was still you you were looking at.”

Rory studied himself in the mirror. He did look better than normal – his hair didn’t look as much like a scrubbing brush as usual, for one thing. And his jawline looked more defined.

Clara was looking at the Doctor’s reflection in the mirror. “But you like exactly the same,” she said.

“That’s right. Because I’m already perfect. And the sooner you two realised that about yourselves, the better. Come on.”

“Says the man who changes his face every few years,” Clara muttered to Rory. He pretended his laugh was a sneeze.

“Gesundheit,“

They continued walking, Clara and Rory looking over at their better selves in the mirror every few paces. Dotted here and there along the wall were the illuminated buttons the android receptionist had mentioned. It seemed like an endless tunnel of mirrors, until they came upon a more open space, like a clearing in a forest. As soon as they had walked into the middle of the space, they could no longer discern where they had come from or which way the exit was.

“I don’t like this,” Rory said, “I do not like this at all.”

The Doctor began hitting along the wall, trying to find a break between the mirrors, but instead of the loud banging noise of his palm hitting the glass, all the separate mirror panels rippled as though they were made of water when he hit them.

“Ok, that is even worse. That makes me feel like our other selves can just step through as easily as walking through a waterfall.”

“Or we could step through to them just as easily,” The Doctor said, now running his fingers through liquid wall. Suddenly his hand was hanging in the air. “There we go. Clara – Rory – follow me and don’t get left behind.”

They were walking down an identical hall of mirrors now. All Clara wanted was to get out. The mirrors on either side unnerved her, a thousand thousand Clara Oswalds walking side by side into infinity. She heard a strange sound behind her – a sound which she should not have heard, considering that she was walking behind Rory and the Doctor. Maybe there was someone else touring the maze.

“Doctor,” she hissed. “Doctor, I heard something.”

“From where?”

“Behind us.”

They all turned to look. But there was nothing there, just more mirrors parading side by side down the length of the hallway.

“It was probably your imagination, Clara.”

“It was not my imagination!”

“There’s nothing there.”

“That doesn’t mean I just imagined it!”

“Let’s just get out of this place,” Rory said, interrupting their bickering. He was starting to feel a little dizzy.

But before they could find the exit to the maze, Clara heard a noise behind her. A noise like the fluttering of wings. Rory heard it too, and he was slowly filled with a cold dread and realisation.

“Doctor,” he said. “I don’t think Clara was just imagining it.” He turned around to see someone standing right behind Clara. Something. A statue of a stone angel, reaching its hand out for Clara.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara, Rory, and the Doctor have an exciting last adventure featuring one of his most fearsome enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is not the end! Also: look out for a reference to one of the Doctor's previous regenerations.

_“Doctor,” he said. “I don’t think Clara was just imagining it.” He turned around to see someone standing right behind Clara. Something. A statue of a stone angel, reaching its hand out for Clara._

 

“Clara,” he said, mouth so dry he could barely form the words, “Clara, come to me.” He didn’t take his eyes off the angel, even though his eyes were stinging.

“Rory?”

“Just come here, right now.”

“Don’t tell me what to do – oh!”

Rory had reached out and grabbed her, pulling her around so she could see the angel hovering behind her, waiting.

“What – how did that get in here?”

The Doctor had finally turned around. “No,” he whispered. Then louder, preparing himself: “Rory, are you watching it?”

“What do you think?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Clara, you have to watch it too. Just in case.”

“I don’t understand, it’s just a statue – isn’t it?”

“Only when you’re looking at it. It’s called a weeping angel. I’ve met them with the Doctor before. They’re the stuff nightmares are made of. Don’t blink. If you blink it’ll move and get us. It’ll send us back in time to before we were born and feed on all the days we could have lived in the present. If you blink, we’ll already have died.”

“That’s my boy, Rory!” The Doctor muttered, pointing his screwdriver at the angel. It stood there, it's blank, expressionless eyes still fixed on the spot where Clara had been standing only a moment before. “It came through the mirrors,” he announced. “There must be a parallel universe hidden back there – “ his mouth hung open - “An alternate universe to this one! This isn’t just a hall of mirrors, it’s the most accessible gateway to an alternate universe I’ve ever seen!” His mind flashed back to a girl standing on a beach, tears running down her face, the wind causing strands of her blonde hair to reach out to him, and his hand started to reach out towards the mirror, thinking that maybe, maybe it was just possible for two miracles to occur in one day – but then he chastised himself. There was no going back, at least not this time. It would never be that easy. And he could never leave Clara and Rory stranded here. He checked himself, pushed his brain back onto the topic at hand. “But how does it work? Think, Doctor, think…”

“Uh, Doctor? Do you really have to understand how right now? Can’t we just focus on, you know, getting away from this angel?” Rory’s fingernails were gripping tight into Clara’s skin, so much so that she had to repress the urge to cry out. She could tell just from the pressure that this angel was one of the worst things he’d encountered in all of his travels with the Doctor – something to really be afraid of.

“Ok, plan,” The Doctor muttered. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to walk backwards, slowly, not taking our eyes off that angel – not one of us, not even for a second. We won’t blink. We are going to back up until I feel the door behind us and then we are going to get out of here, and, er, the plan will progress from there. Got it?”

“Doctor, that is a terrible plan.” Clara said.

“Yes, I know. Now start walking!”

Slowly, carefully, they walked backwards as one being. The angel got smaller, but they never took their eyes off it. And it never took it’s eyes off them. As they went, the Doctor theorized:

“It must be something to do with the location – why else would they build this place in the middle of such a remote forest? Why build this place anyway? Yes, why? No, I’ll think about that later. In the middle of a forest, a wood, full of trees…the trees! They were giving something off, producing something, the concentration of that element must be enough for perfect alignment and accessibility…”

“Are we almost there?” Clara asked desperately.

“I have no idea, but don’t look! Keep watching that angel!” Just as he said that the Doctor broke his own guideline. His eyes darted to the mirrors on either side of them, the mirrors that were reflecting thousands of Claras and Doctors and Rorys, repeating over and over again an infinity amount of times, the mirrors that were also reflecting thousands of angels, and a horrible memory began to form in his mind…Rory, trapped inside a box with a static-y surveillance tape of an angel…a book with no illustrations…River’s voice saying, “An image of an angel, is an angel.”

“Ok, there’s been a change of plans! Don’t ask questions, and run away as fast as you can!”

“But Doctor, the angel – “

“Rory, I said don’t ask questions!” Already two more angels were starting to appear next to the original, slowly taking shape. They turned and ran. The Doctor slammed into the door and wrenched it open with all his might – they spilled out and closed it firmly behind them.

“’Whatever takes the image of an Angel becomes itself an Angel!’ We have to find a way to destroy those mirrors – it’ll cause a paradox, more and more angels forming until this world is filled to the brim, but more and more angels will just appear, and more because of the other angels that are now showing up in the mirrors! Two mirrors facing each other creates infinity – there is no such number as infinity! It never ends!”

“So, what do we do?” Clara asked, licking her lips, ready to spring to action.

“The forest is somehow keeping the gateways – the mirrors – in balance. There must be some way to throw it off…”

As they spoke the menacing sound of wing beats was increasing behind the door. Clara glanced at it, becoming more and more aware as the seconds went by of how flimsy and wooden it was.

“Can’t we ask that android woman for help?”

“There’s no time! And she’s probably only programmed for one job!”

“Chop down a tree.” Rory said. “That’ll work, won’t it, Doctor? That’ll destroy the balance?”

“Rory, you’re a genius! If there was time, I would kiss you…but what can we use to chop down one of those trees?” He looked wildly around the room. It was similar to the one they had first entered, slick and white, the only furniture plump white couches and a table bearing a pile of visitor’s cards and a set of pens. Nothing you could even stretch your imagination to see chopping down a tree.

“Can’t you just use your sonic screwdriver?” Clara cried.

“Clara, how many times do I have to tell you that _it doesn’t do wood_!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t think! There must be something in the TARDIS!”

“Yes! I only hope there’s time…Rory, Clara, find a nice tree. I’ll be right back!”

“You can’t just leave us here!” Rory yelled at his retreating back. But he was already gone. The sound of fluttering wings was almost deafening now.

“God, I hope this’ll work!” Clara said as they slammed the exit door behind them before the one to the hall of mirrors could be flung open by the hoard of weeping angels.

“I hope the Doctor’ll get back in time!” Rory said as they scanned the forest surrounding the building. None of the trees were that thick, thankfully, but they needed to find the closest thinnest one, fast.

“I’m sure he will – the Doctor’s the fastest runner I know with the most endurance. So, you’ve met these angels before?”

“Yeah. It was a nightmare from start to finish.” They were pretending like everything was fine, that there weren’t a hoard of time-eating statues about to create a paradox and send them back in time. “We were in this series of caves, full of statues, and at first we thought we were just looking for one angel, but then…” Rory told her the whole story as they scouted the nearby forest. But the whole time their hearts were pounding like the Doctor’s running feet on the ground and they were breathing heavily, ears pricked for the first sounds of approaching wingbeats. But what they heard first was someone crashing through the forest, headed straight towards them. It was the Doctor, bearing a fire ax and looking as much like a madman as they had ever seen.

“You don’t have a chainsaw or something stashed away in that huge box?” Clara said.

“I didn’t exactly have time to do a good, nostalgic rummage!”

“Well, we found a tree.” Rory stood back but the Doctor held out the ax to him.

“You do it, Rory, I’m too tired from all that running.”

“Me? But I never – “

“Oh, give it here,” Clara sighed, snatching the axe out of the Doctor’s hand. Her first fierce swing embedded itself into the tree trunk just as the back doors of Malcrove House burst open and a crowd of angels surged out, pushing steadily forward. The Doctor and Rory focused on keeping their eyes on them while Clara hacked ferociously at the tree. They were only able to manage it because there were so many angels that many of their gazes were hidden behind other statues, and because of the light leaking out of the clinic and staining the dark of the surrounding forest.

“Hurry up, Clara!” Rory yelled as the angels pushed closer and closer to where they were standing. There seemed to be millions of them approaching, and, as the Doctor said, they were steadily multiplying. The angels’ faces had shifted from the blank, placating look of the original angel to savage snarls – as if they were all giving a battle cry, Rory thought wildly. Their hands were formed into claws and they bared their sharp teeth menacingly.

Clara gave one final swing of the axe and with a great crash the tree fell to the ground. Simultaneously the sound of thousands of mirrors shattering echoed through the air and the angels smashed and vanished, as if they had never been there.

“It’s because the image they were originally created from no longer exists,” the Doctor explained, panting.

“Clara, you were brilliant!” Rory cried, running over to hug his girlfriend. She threw they ax away and they embraced, their lips meeting hungrily after standing on the edge of death. They were giving each other the kiss of life, filling themselves up with the feelings of love and happiness and relief again. The Doctor made disgusted sounds, like a twelve year old watching his parents kiss, until they broke apart and pulled him into a group hug.

“Woo!” Clara exclaimed as they walked back to the TARDIS.

“That was a good last run,” Rory agreed, “No trip in the TARDIS is complete without a good brush with death.”

Clara’s good mood deflated with his words. She’d forgotten this was it, the last trip for a long, long time. She hadn’t even remembered to savour the occasion, had been too full of other feelings to. Now, as she took a final look at the red sky and the planet with the perpetual sunset, she felt tears forming in her eyes – no, not tears, memories, memories flooding her vision with all her travels with the Doctor, and with the Doctor and Rory. When they had met the TARDIS, in human form; the amazing ice cream in Northsouth Valedge; the time she and Rory had run around a giant dollhouse and he had been more scared than she had; their first adventure to that Love Hotel in future Tokyo. Rory had already stepped into the TARDIS, but the Doctor noticed.

“Hey,” he said, putting his arm around her, “Don’t cry, Clara Oswald. My impossible girl. This isn’t an ending. This is just the middle – the intermission. We’ll resume the second half when the time comes. You know why I’m so sure of that? Because I’m not ready for this to end yet, either. So buck up. Eat some Maltesers from the concession while you wait. But don’t stay in your seat. You need to get up and stretch.”

She smiled, reaching up to take the hand that rested on her shoulder. “That was a pretty good metaphor, for once, Doctor.” She didn’t let the memories spill out.

“You noticed? While I was away I took a metaphor creating class. Run by an Emily Dickinson clone no less! Although I might not be as good as one would hope, seeing as it was interrupted halfway through by the Sycorax…”

Clara giggled. Neither of them noticed Rory stick his head out of the TARDIS to see why they were taking so long and watch as Clara put her head on the Doctor’s shoulder. He had gone back inside by the time they turned around and was sitting on one of the chairs by the console.

They were all quiet, as if having a moment of silence for their travels – Act One of their story, the Doctor might say.

“Well, Rory, Clara, see you around!” The Doctor said as the TARDIS settled, giving them a stiff salute.

“That’s it? Just ‘see you around’ like we’re acquaintances saying goodnight after going to the pub?” Clara asked, staring at him.

“This isn’t forever, Clara. I’m trying to remind you two of that. Remember my middle name.” He tried to do a suave wink, but one whole half of his face scrunched up as he closed one eye. Clara and Rory laughed.

“Ok then, Doctor, see you ‘round,” Rory said, extending his hand out to the Doctor who pumped it enthusiastically.

“See you later, alligator,” Clara said, grinning. She longed to hug him, especially if they wouldn’t be seeing each other for a while, this lonely god, all by himself in his time machine. But she didn’t. This wasn’t goodbye, she reminded herself, this was ‘see you later.’ There was no need to be soppy.

“In a while in Crocodilopolis,” he said, making them both laugh again.

They walked to the door and opened it, London breeze blowing in their faces, playing with their hair. Clara was about to step out after Rory when she turned around.

“Oh, Doctor. I’ll miss you.”

“Nah, you won’t even realise I’m gone. Now get out of here!”

They shared one last grin before she stepped outside, closing the door carefully behind her. She and Rory stood side by side on the grass and watched the TARDIS gradually vanish until there was only a rectangular indent in the grass to show that it had been there. They stayed standing there for a long time after it had disappeared.

 

~

 

That night, Rory squeezed into the bathroom with Clara while she was brushing her teeth. He perched on the side of the bath and didn’t meet her eyes.

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Who?” She said, although they both knew who he was talking about.

“The Doctor.”

“Of course I do! You love him too. He’s my best friend.”

“Not like that. You know what I mean.”

There was silence as Clara finished brushing and spit into the sink.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rory,” she said, an edge in her voice, “How could I be in love with a man who changed constantly?”

“Clara.”

“I love you, Rory. You’re the only man for me. How could you ever think otherwise?”

“Do you love him more than me?”

“I could never love anybody as much as I love you. That’s impossible.”

He spread his hands. “We are impossible humans. The impossible boy and the impossible girl.”

“Rory…”

“Just admit it, Clara! You’re so brave about everything else but you don’t have the nerve to tell me the truth! You left my arms for his! You put your head on his shoulder!”

She shook her head again and again. “Not today, Rory, please. I’ve been through enough.”

“It’s been more than a day since we were in Jordan, Clara. Time doesn’t just stand still and wait for us while we go on adventures. It moves on! We’ve lived longer than all the days that have happened on Earth in our lives.”

“We just said goodbye to the Doctor for who knows how long. Maybe he’ll never come back. That happened today.”

“Would you rather he came back now and _I_ left?”

“No! Of course not. Rory, stop. Please.” He realised there were tears in her eyes and as soon as he realised that he was filled with guilt.

“Clara, I’m sorry. I just – how can I compare to a God? I’m just an imperfect human. I can’t protect you from everything. I get so jealous because I love you so much.”

She put her hand on his cheek. “We both do. I’d probably be saying the same thing to you if the Doctor was a girl! Well, I might, still. He could be a girl one day, who knows?” She straddled his waist and sat on his lap.

“Careful! We don’t want to fall into the bath.”

“Oh, shut up. I know you like it when I do this.” She smiled and kissed him on the lips. He sighed and breathed in her flowery perfume. “I know you’re sad about the Doctor leaving. But he’s right – at least we’re still alive. At least we still have each other.”

And, even though they might fall backward into the bath, they clung to each other and kissed like it was the end of the world.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara and Rory find that life without the Doctor is harder than they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: depression symptoms.

And so their lives went on without the Doctor – slowly, sluggishly. Minutes seemed like hours, hours like days, days like weeks. Clara had trouble believing she had ever been able to live like this. It was hard, even with Rory around to support her and to give her shoulders reassuring squeezes. Every day seemed the same. She soon grew sick of the routine, and her mind became fuzzy and unfocused. She spent more time in bed when the days became too long and empty to bear, and even when she was up she seemed to be sleepwalking. Rory tried to push her to do something – he left flyers about rock climbing classes on her side of the table and left the computer up on webpages about Japanese lessons, but Clara always threw away the pieces of paper and closed the webpages. How could a rock climbing class compare with travelling through time and space? She became resentful of how easily Rory had settled back into their normal life.

She didn’t know that Rory was struggling as much as her. And he was also struggling against his thoughts: wasn’t this what he’d wanted? To live a normal life with Clara, navigating life side by side? But he didn’t want this life, or this Clara. He wanted her to be happy again – he hated to see her pale face, the violet ghosts under her eyes. He just wanted to make everything better and he hated that he couldn’t, hated that he wasn’t the man who could help her return to her bubbly self. She hadn’t even attempted any soufflés in the time since they’d been back. He asked her about it one night, and she replied:

“What’s the point? We both know I’ll never get it right.”

Rory wanted to say he knew that one day she would make the perfect soufflé if she just kept practicing, but he didn’t want to turn the conversation into a round of he said, she said. So he said nothing.

In the days he tried to be enthusiastic about his work at the hospital. He could tell he was nearing a promotion, more quickly now that he had more stability in his life. This was something he ordinarily would have been thrilled about – so why wasn’t he? Why was he spending more time staring out windows than thinking about ways he could impress his superiors? Why did he seem to be moving in slow motion?

In time, he got the promotion, and so gained the benefits of a larger salary and more holiday hours. An idea started to form in his mind – an idea that he hoped would help bring Clara back to life.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” He asked her one night as they did the washing up. He washed, she dried. As usual. They moved like robots, almost without thinking.

“I don’t know,” she said dully.

“Clara! Of course you do! You have a whole book of places! I’ll go get it, and we can look at it together?” He said, drying his hands on the dish towel.

She just shrugged.

When he returned, she was curled up on the couch with a glass of red wine, staring into space, eyes blank.

“I think the Doctor was right,” he began, but Clara cut him off:

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Just don’t, Rory. If we don’t talk about him,” she swallowed, “About those trips, it’ll be easier for it to fade until it’s just a wonderful, amazing dream. Until we can remind ourselves that those things are impossible, that they can’t happen in the  real world, that we should stop getting our hopes up. Until we can believe those things.”

“But it was real,” he said, sinking down on the couch next to her. She was looking out the window as if it didn’t look out on the gray estate but the kind of places she was talking about. They kind of places that they had been to. They had scraped their knees and elbows on the rocks of those places, breathed in the air, let those strange winds tangle their hair. And they had left things behind, too: their blood had stained those rocks, the carbon dioxide from their lungs was part of the atmosphere of those places now, and their stray hairs had blown away and got caught in the branches of trees that most humans could never imagine. Parts of them were spread all over the universe. Even if they did deny that to themselves, the proof was out there.

“But if it wasn’t I don’t have to spend every day waiting for him to come back. Don’t you see, Rory? It’s easier this way.”

“I guess so.” He said quietly. There was silence for a while as rain fell outside and Clara sipped absently at her wine. “Well, I was thinking, I have more holiday time and more money to spend on holidays now, so how would you like to go on a trip?” He started to open her book but she rested a hand on top of his.

“Not now. It’ll just make it worse.”

He nodded, and went and put the book away in her nightstand. He sat on the edge of their bed and thought that now they were so close together they seemed to be further apart.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara and Rory finally start to get used to life without the Doctor, with help from an exciting event for both of them, which doesn't entirely go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: DEPRESSION.

Months passed. Before they had gone away with the Doctor, Rory had been thinking of proposing to Clara, but there hadn’t been time after that. And now the thought of them being married seemed impossible. Clara was so distant – not even purposefully, it was as if she were underwater and he was on the surface, calling out to her, but the water muted his voice so that she could barely hear him. She rarely talked herself, these days. He missed her nervous outbursts where she had talked at a hundred words per minute. He even missed her yelling at him. He actually wished that she _would_ yell at him. Then he would know she was ok. He was worried about her. So worried that he made himself sick. He couldn’t sleep at night, so he had to get one of the other doctors at work to give him a prescription for sleeping pills.

Then one night as they lay in bed, facing away from each other, he heard Clara say:

“Rory. I think we should separate from each other.”

He rolled over, his pulse quickening. “What? Why?”

“We both know this isn’t working.” Her voice was faint.

He found himself getting angry, yelling at her, trying to get her to show _something_ :

“You know why this isn’t working? You’re not _trying_ to make this work! You’ve just given up! Maybe if you actually made an effort we would be fine! But no, you just sit moping around and barely look at me!” He knew his words were cruel, and he knew he didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t stop: “If you stopped thinking about yourself and feeling sorry for yourself and thought about _us_ instead the middle of the bed wouldn’t be cold! I have been trying so hard for us, Clara, but relationships aren’t one way! They don’t work like that! It’s not fair!” He stopped, panting, embarrassment and regret chilling him. “Clara – “ he said, the start of an apology, but she had spoken, finally, at something above a whisper:

“You’re right, Rory. I’ve been selfish. But I don’t think it’s been entirely my fault. I can’t help it. I try to think positive but my mind just collapses in on itself. Nothing seems worth the effort anymore, not even a holiday. I don’t know what to do.” She sounded utterly helpless. He reached out a hand and touched her back.

“I’m sorry, Clara. I was wrong too. Maybe I’ve been trying too hard. I’ve made this relationship strained.”

She sniffed.

“I want to help you, but you have to be open. I think maybe you should see a doctor, there’s one who works at the hospital…”

“I’m not crazy.”

“No, you’re sick. And sick people should consult doctors.”

“Why have you put up with me?”

“Because I love you.”

The next week she went to see a therapist. Not the one at the hospital, one she had found on her own. She insisted on going alone and wouldn’t let Rory even come and flip through the magazines in the waiting room. They gave her a prescription and now she took her pills as regularly each morning as Rory took his at night. And they both, slowly, gradually, started to heal from the wound the Doctor had made in their lives. Rory was happier now that Clara was happier, and his happiness rubbed off on her as well. Their lives started to balance out, and as Clara had wanted, they started to forget their time with the Doctor. It seemed more and more unreal as days passed. Finally they stopped waiting for that wheezing sound to fill the room and stopped glancing out windows whenever their eyes caught the slightest movements.

And then in the middle of spring, on a walk with cherry blossom petals caught in Clara’s hair, Rory proposed, as he had been planning to do. He did it the traditional way, down on one knee, wobbling a little in the struggle to keep his balance, but the love and need in his eyes never faltered. Of course Clara said yes, hugging him excitedly before taking the ring, and both of them cried a little. Their lives were moving on. The Doctor was a far speck in the distant past.

Their wedding was in the autumn, on a perfect day with fire coloured leaves outside falling from the trees occasionally like a light snowfall, the sunlight setting them aflame.

Rory gasped when he first saw Clara in her dress, her skin glowing, her hair in waves, smiling with her whole face, and he just felt so, so happy that they had stopped travelling with the Doctor because if they hadn’t he might never have seen her like this, aglow like the sun shining through the leaves outside, might never have seen this happy.

When she came up and stood beside him he took her hand and whispered “You are so beautiful,” even though he should have been paying attention. She look him in the eyes and breathed:

“And you are so handsome,” squeezing his hand in hers.

Their first kiss as husband and wife felt, for both of them, as if someone had ignited all the stars in the universe at once.

It was all going so well, and they both felt as though all their happy memories were happening at the same time, until the reception. Rory and Clara and their families were sitting at a table in the back; they had left an empty chair in honor of Clara’s mum, and the only melancholy twinges were felt when she glanced at that empty seat, where her mum should have sat, grinning with pride.

“Mum would have loved you,” Clara told Rory, “So much.” She nuzzled up to him.

And that was when the champagne glasses began to tremble. The rocked against each other like a tinkling, spectral orchestra, the champagne in them splashing up the sides of the glass like a violent sea. The chandelier overhead was dancing too, madly, like a girl with nothing to lose.

“What’s going on?” Exclaimed Rory’s dad.

And with those words Clara and Rory knew. As the perfect white balloons twisted around each other, shaken by the sudden breeze that swirled round the room, ruffling their guests’ hair and fancy clothes, they didn’t know whether this was a good thing or a bad one. And the room was filled with that groaning, wheezing sound, a sound that flooded them with a thousand memories, as all rediscovered things do.

“Is it an earthquake?” Someone cried.

But it wasn’t an earthquake. A 1960’s police telephone box began to appear in the middle of the room out of thin air, gradually transforming from transparent to opaque.

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,” Clara whispered.

And so the Doctor burst out of the TARDIS and back into their lives.

Early the next morning, after a night they had all danced through, particularly the Doctor with his strange patented dance moves, the three of them went outside in the chill October air.

“So, you’re back,” Clara said. They hadn’t had this conversation yet. They’d been too busy reuniting.

“Yes, I am. I just missed you two so much,” the Doctor said, pinching their cheeks.

“You mean you couldn’t stand travelling alone anymore,” said Clara.

“Same thing, isn’t it? Anyway, I’m back now and I have _the best_ honeymoon idea in the universe.”

“That’s not how it works. You can’t just leave, and then come back, like no time has passed, like we’re toys you boxed up in the attic for the winter. That’s not fair.”

The Doctor looked at Rory for help, just wanting exactly that, to have an adventure like they used to have.

“She’s right, Doctor,” he said quietly, “It’s not fair. It was selfish of you, to come back like this.”

He faltered, looking at them, Clara quiet and reproachful and a little scared in her delicate lace wedding dress, twisting her veil in her hands, Rory handsome and protective of his new wife in a suit you could tell he hadn’t worn before and never would again, a suit tailored specially for him.

“You don’t want to go?”

“Yes! I want to go! But I need some sort of apology first!”

“Apology? Well, Clara, I – “ The Doctor broke off, sitting down on a low brick wall facing them. He sighed.

Clara crossed her arms.

“You’re right, Rory, this is entirely selfish of me. I left so it wouldn’t hurt so much when I left, but I know it did…and now, after you’ve had time to heal, I’ve reopened the wounds because I was lonely. You’re right too, Clara, about that. Maybe I should have just left you too, let you grow old together and forget about me, but…I didn’t. I need you just as much as you needed me, even more so. So will you please, just come with me?”

His eyes were pleading. Neither of them could say no. And so they stepped into the TARDIS again. But the Doctor should have just stayed away, because soon a tragedy struck that would tear them apart.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short, but sad is the ending of Clara and Rory's story.

It was Christmas. Their first Christmas as husband and wife, and Rory was working overtime. But he had promised he would be back for dinner, and Clara was desperately trying to cook the turkey. She wished more than ever that her mum was here, if not to help, than to just rub her shoulders and tell her it was ok. She had checked the oven about ten times to make sure it was on. Every time it was, but no one had told the turkey that. It just wouldn’t cook. So, desperately, she called the Doctor.

They put the turkey in the vortex, and then travelled to the congregation of ships over the mystery planet.

When the Doctor sent her back the second time, Rory was home, a little confused, but ready to welcome the despondent Clara into his arms. He ate the turkey – perfectly cooked – while Clara tried not to cry. They both went when the TARDIS returned, but only one came back.

It was the crack. The one Rory had seen many times before, the crack he would go on seeing into eternity. He was standing too near when it closed, and it took him with it, like water down a drain, swallowing him and every memory of his presence in the universe. His memory was blurred in even the Doctor’s memory, so that it was hard to remember if he had been part of Clara’s life or that of a red-headed girl with a fairytale name.

 

 ~

 

As she walked back to the TARDIS, Clara was crying harder than she ever had, sobbing, tears spilling out of her eyes and down her cheeks, as strong and steady as two waterfalls, and she was holding herself, trying to keep all the sorrow in. But was she just crying about the Doctor changing? It seemed like there was another reason behind her tears, a deep sadness which lurked in the dark corners of her mind, never coming out of the shadows there but ever present. If only she could remember…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >Go from here to series 8. I hope you enjoyed this and now ship Clara x Rory as much as I do! (the ultimate goal)


End file.
